From the Sea
by SaiyanBlack
Summary: The sea is a vicious goddess, giving endlessly to those that know and love her - but anger her and everything that you were given can be taken away in an instant.


Something random that popped into my head while I was watching a documentary on European merchant ships on the Discovery Channel. I don't know exactly where I'm going with this, but I thought I would throw it out there and see if anyone was interested.

* * *

**From the Sea**

**By SaiyanBlack**

Relena stared out at the rain from just inside her window, watching the gray sheets as they drenched the fishing town. Above the curved harbor, the buildings and streets crawled up the mountain that was their protector from many of the ocean storms, such as the one that pounded on the slate and tile roofs just outside her bedroom. The wind blew through the streets between the buildings, making an eerie noise that could barely be heard over the sound of rain hitting the stone roofs and cobbles.

The harbor was closed now and everyone was inside for the duration of the storm, knowing from experience and knowledge that was passed down through generations that it was pointless and dangerous to wander around in a storm. But that didn't stop her from opening her long window to breathe in the fresh air and listen to the rain. A habit that her brother often scolded her for because it sometimes made her sick.

She looked out over the ocean, but she was unable to see as far as she usually could from her vantage point. Her brother's home sat high on the mountain's slope, high enough to where she could see miles out past the harbor's horse-shoe curve. But because of the rain she could not see far out past the two tips of land that reached toward each other at the harbor's mouth. Just the gray of the sky and the darker gray of the water, blurred together at the middle by the heavy rain.

Though, as she watched that hazy horizon between ocean and sky, there seemed to be a darker shape that stood out, but she wasn't able to recognize what it might have been. It floated atop the water like drift wood, but it wasn't shaped like boat or ship. There was no mast visible and was too small to be any type of vessel that could manage the waters off the rocky coast.

Suddenly there was a small red light in the air above it, but only for a few short moments before the rain and wind snuffed it out. But she knew what it was – a signal. Relena turned and threw herself out into the hall, descending the curved staircase as she called for her brother.

"Milliardo! Milliardo!"

The tall, pale complexioned man came out of his study, jacket missing and a concerned look on his strong face as she thundered down the stairs and across the foyer. He caught her by her arms when she stopped, panic having settled into her blood.

"What is it?" he asked, watching her face intently.

"There was a flare outside the harbor," she told him, "I think there was a wreck."

His blue eyes went wide and he pushed her aside gently, returning to his study to pick up his jacket from one of the wingback chairs that sat in front of the fireplace. She watched him nervously as he pulled it on before pulling his over coat on over it and placing his hat on his head. As he reached for the door handle, he turned and gave her a stern look.

"Stay here," he told her, "inside and out of the storm. If there are survivors, Quatre might send for you. But you are not to leave the house until someone comes for you, do you understand?"

She nodded, wringing her hands in front of her. His eyes softened and he leaned over to give her a small kiss on her forehead before he opened the door and stepped out into the rain, holding his outer coat tight to his body as the wind pushed him down the cobbled street toward the harbor. She watched from the dry doorway, the wind whipping her blonde hair around her face, until his dark form disappeared around the corner of the Montanoli's home.

Relena still had not closed the front door minutes later and the rain and wind had made its way into the house, dampening her skirts and hair. The skies seemed to open further and the rain came down in such torrents that it was difficult to see over the crest of the street. Her heart pounded, hammering against her chest with anticipation and worry – for the survivors she had spotted and her brother and the men that would be venturing out into the stormy harbor to rescue them.

All she could do was wait until Quatre sent for her assistance or Milliardo returned on his own. She could be patient, she told herself as she stepped back into the house and closed the door, needing to put her shoulder into the wood to close it. Alone in the foyer, she began to pace nervously across the polished wood, wringing her hands again. After several passes, she managed to convince herself that pacing in the foyer wasn't going to achieve anything but a worn floor and shoes, and placed herself primly on the last step of the staircase, watching the door for Quatre's messenger.

She could be patient… but that didn't stop her from worrying.

* * *

He could feel the water rising over his shoulders, his eyes seemed like they had been closed forever but there was no welcoming sleep for him as he was tossed and rolled by the vengeful sea that had always been his home. His body shivered with a cold he no longer felt, having long ago gone completely numb. He couldn't feel his fingers and he could no longer feel the rough, damp wood that he clung to so he could stay afloat. A slipping feeling overcame him but he couldn't tell if it was real or just a hallucination.

A hand grasped his left arm, another soon following on his left and he was pulled up farther onto the long piece of wood that had once been a part of the ship he had called home for the past two years. He managed to open his eyes and looked at the two men that held him steady. Both as soaked to the bone and cold as he was, hair matted to their faces with bitter salt water as his was, they supported him from the other side of the board, one of their hands on each of his arms.

"Stay awake, mate," Duo told him, his voice weary and tired. "Don't go slipping off on us now."

He was too tired to smile back, but the weak grin that Duo cast him was enough to give him a little hope that they could get out of this situation alive. He wrapped his numb fingers around their arms, anchoring himself to them.

"Heero," Trowa scratched, his voice harsh and quiet from the smoke and the yelling he had done. "Look."

Duo's eyes snapped up to look over Heero's head and the tired young man turned to look over his shoulder at the ocean behind him. And at the big black shape that was breaking through the waves slowly, forcing itself against the powerful wind and waters. A skiff was lowered into the churning waters and three men rowed out to pull them in.

"Get him first," Trowa said, just as Heero's eyes began to close once more. He felt hands pull him up and out of the cold water as Trowa and Duo's hands let go. As he was guided onto the wooden bottom of the skiff, he finally felt the blackness of unconsciousness seep into his head. And he welcomed it.

* * *

"Master Quatre!" Rashid came into the study and the young blonde man looked up questioningly. "There was a wreck off shore and General Peacecraft found three survivors."

With wide blue eyes, the young business man followed his manservant into the back of his lavish home. He had long converted the rear chambers into a physician's office after returning to his father's home from the university in Florence, where he studied the human anatomy.

There were soaked fishermen in the chamber already, managing three unconscious sailors onto cots under a China-man's strict observation. The dark Asian man called out orders to the fishermen like a drill instructor, criticizing the way they handled the survivors.

"Wufei," Quatre called his attention, coming to stand beside the Chinese scholar, "you must remember that these men are helping out of their own goodwill. They do not deserve your wrath."

"If they would stop treating these water-logged sailors like bags of grain, then I would not have to scold them for it," the scowling man replied and Quatre only smiled.

"It looks like we may need Miss Relena's help," the blonde man observed and he turned to his large manservant, standing just to his left, "Would you mind retrieving her, Rashid? I do not like the thought of her traveling through this weather on her own."

The older man smiled and nodded, leaving back through the front of the house to do his master's bidding. When Quatre turned back, Wufei had managed to banish the soaked fisherman to the side of the room and was busy stripping the unconscious sailors of their wet, salt encrusted clothing, mumbling under his breath in Chinese. Quatre smiled at the put-out men by the door.

"Thank you for bring them. We can handle them now without your assistance. It would be best for you to return to your families before the storm becomes worse."

The men nodded in agreement, thanking him as a whole before pulling up their hoods and hats to brave through the rain again. As the door closed behind them, Quatre was left with the sound of Wufei's grumbling and the growing roar of the storm outside. When the China-man's grumbling became louder, he moved to help in removing the personal effects of their three charges. By the time that all three men were stripped and covered, the door flew open with the wind, Rashid and Miss Relena in its wake. The large manservant pushed the door closed with his shoulder.

The young, blonde woman pushed back her hood and cloak, giving Quatre a brief hug in greeting. Her hair was damp from the rain and the bottom of her brocade frock was splattered with mud and water, but her face was glowing from the cold and her small smile.

"Only three?" she asked as she untied her cloak and pulled it from her shoulders. Her smile had disappeared when she saw the three young men lying, unmoving on the cots that dominated the chamber. Rashid took her cloak from her hands and she thanked him with a smile.

"They are very lucky," Quatre told her as he handed her a clean white apron.

"I wonder where the rest of their crew is," she said as she sat in a chair beside one of the cots.

"He has a small concussion," Wufei informed her as she tucked the dark haired man in tighter within the heavy blankets. "Do not move him too much while he is sleeping and if he awakens prevent him from sitting."

"He'll also be dehydrated," she commented as she felt his head for the strike point. There was a small bump on the back of his head behind his right ear, but it wasn't large enough to do more than rattle him little. Placed his head gently back onto the low pillow, "I'll go make some tea for them."

"Wait," the Chinese man called as she reached the door, "use the tea in the box on the shelf. Not the tinned brown stuff you people normally drink."

Relena nodded and left through the door that was attached to the home's kitchen. Quatre cast Wufei a knowing smile that he caught over his shoulder through the corner of his glasses.

"The English tea I bought is not so bad," he defended as he checked over the sailor with long brown hair. He had to manage around the man's long braid and briefly wondered if he would have to cut the plait off.

"It is absolutely disgusting and you know it," the Asian man argued, "it has no good properties, tastes like the inside of barrel and is stunningly dry for something that is seeped in water. So don't tell me that it's 'not so bad,' Quatre."

The blonde man began laughing, just as Relena returned to the room with a large pot of boiling water and a warming plate that was red around the edges from the coals of the stove. The young woman placed the iron plate on its stand on the table across the room from the filled cots and the set pot on top of it. She opened the small wooden box she carried under her arm and pulled out a rice paper packet to drop into the steaming pot of water. She began arranging extra blankets on one of the empty cots to keep herself busy, but kept an eye on the young sailor with the head injury should he decide to wake. He didn't.

Two hours later found her seated on the same empty cot, repairing and refitting old shirts from Quatre's wardrobe to be given to the three men still sleeping motionlessly in the room with her. Quatre had returned to his office, but Wufei remained in the chamber, cleaning and mixing herbs and plants from the green house just outside. He didn't speak or meet her gaze, but she would glance up at him every once in a while to confirm that he was still in the room. He was amazingly quiet sometimes.

Stirring caught her attention and she watched in surprise as the dark haired sailor she sat next to began to shift and mumble under the blankets. Relena put aside her stitch work and moved to calm him, placing her hand on his upper arm to tell him of her presence. He began speaking in a language that she didn't recognize, his eyes half open and slightly glazed. She pulled the damp cloth away from his forehead and began to smooth away his salty hair from his face, whispering soothing words to him like a mother would to an ill child. He managed to focus on her face and she noticed the dark color of his blue eyes.

"Crisalide bella," he said, his eyes straining to stay open. Wufei came beside her and pushed a warm cup of the green tea into her hand, helping her lift his upper body onto her shoulder. The young man watched her with cloudy eyes, only slightly focused as she gave him small sips of the warm liquid.

"Nient'altro," he said after several minutes, turning his face away from the teacup. Relena got the idea. She placed the cup on the floor next to the cot and gently helped the sailor back into a lying position. As she arranged the blankets around him, he looked up at her through his dark lashes.

"Che posto è questo?" he asked, but there was nothing she could say in return. She only hoped that he was like most sailors and knew several languages.

"I will be able to answer all you questions soon," she told him, smoothing his hair away from his face to place the cold compress on his forehead once more, "but for now, you need to sleep. All will be better once the storm passes."

He nodded, understanding her physical communication if nothing else, and closed his eyes once more, letting himself fall back into slumber. She straightened his blankets before collecting the forgotten cup and returning it to the table on which the warming stand sat. When she turned, Wufei was watching her with an unreadable look, making her avert her eyes nervously under his scrutiny. He shook his head, as if he had come to a decision that he disliked and she returned to her mending, picking up her discarded needle and the shirt before making herself comfortable on the cot once more.

Outside, the sky turned from gray to black as the sun set on the far side of the clouds. The lights of lamps and candles in the buildings of the harbor town began to glow through the thick glass windows.

And the rain continued to fall.


End file.
